


turns golden, turns blue

by mornen



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Atmospheric, Cuddling, Fluff, Kissing, Love, M/M, Marriage, Northern Lights, Peredhil - Freeform, Rivendell | Imladris, Romance, Slice of Life, Snow, Some angst, Walking, Wedding Day, Winter, Wreath making, before the wedding, silmarillion mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27283141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mornen/pseuds/mornen
Summary: It is February, and the sky is purple near the Misty Mountains, but deep blue high above them. Their breath comes out in puffs of silver.Elrohir slides his arms around Legolas there beneath a tall tree with spreading branches through which they can make out the last stars of the night. Traces of the northern lights, now very dim, still skirt across the sky in green and violet.
Relationships: Elrohir/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	turns golden, turns blue

Legolas braids holly branches into a wreath for his head. Rivendell is silent in the earliest hours of the morning, usually he would be able to catch a bit of song, but the grey of winter and the morning chill has left the valley silent.

Thranduil hands him the next branch. He hums a low song that has been a lullaby for ages. Legolas smiles at him. He braids in the new branch. 

‘It’s so beautiful,’ he says. He tucks the last end of the branch into the braid of the others, hiding it, and lifts the crown onto his head. In the mirror, he looks like winter. 

He will wear deep red and silver-grey and green, choosing the colours to match the season around him, the plants that still show, like people have done for ages and will do forever if people remain how they are. 

But for now he is in white, just simple nightclothes. He runs his fingers through his hair. It comes down in waves now since he’s just unbraided it. 

There’s a knock on the door, and Legolas says, ‘come in!’

Elrond comes in carrying white roses from a greenhouse. He’s also dressed simply, just in a grey dress and wool socks. He places the roses on the table. 

‘Did you sleep at all?’ 

‘No,’ Legolas says. He didn’t. He was too excited, and it show in his eyes. They sparkle like a thousand stars. He smells the roses. Their scent is very soft. 

‘I don’t think Ro did either,’ Elrond says. He leaves the roses and slips back out into the hall, silent as a shadow. Thranduil kisses Legolas’s cheek and follows Elrond. 

Legolas takes off his wreath and begins to brush his hair. Elrohir comes in. He yawns and then smiles. 

‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’ 

Elrohir kisses him gently. 

‘I didn’t sleep,’ Legolas whispers. 

‘I know.’ 

‘Should we go for a walk before everything starts?’ 

‘All right.’ 

They dress in their warm cloaks. Elrohir slips on fur-lined boots, and Legolas pulls on moccasins. They walk out hand in hand. 

It is February, and the sky is purple near the Misty Mountains, but deep blue high above them. Their breath comes out in puffs of silver. 

It snowed a little the night before, but the clouds are now gone. The snow is fresh, with only some animal prints over it, the trace of Elrond’s feet leading to the greenhouse. 

They walk up towards the pine forest where the whole air smells of the evergreens, and the shadows make it dark enough to be night again. 

Elrohir slides his arms around Legolas there beneath a tall tree with spreading branches through which they can make out the last stars of the night. Traces of the northern lights, now very dim, still skirt across the sky in green and violet. 

Legolas lets out a breath, and it leaves a warm spot on Elrohir’s skin. Elrohir’s eyes look almost black in the shadows. He smiles softly. 

‘My father’s so happy.’ 

Legolas nods once. Elrond nearly fainted with joy when they announced their engagement. He had one guarantee then: a child who wouldn’t die. Legolas doesn’t want to think about that right now, though. He just wants to think about how slowly the sun is rising, how the northern lights are fading away like a memory, how the morning star seems closer than usual, glittering on the far horizon. 

‘I’m happy,’ Legolas says softly. 

A raven calls near them and burst into the sky in flight. Legolas watches it fly until it disappears again into the pine forest closer to the mountains. 

Elrohir’s hand is strong on his back. It keeps him steady, even if he wouldn’t really need it, but his heart is beating fast, and he wants to laugh and cry all at the same time, but he doesn’t know why. He knows people cry at weddings, but he didn’t really know why, but now it seems to all come up at once, a joy that turns into tears as he says, ‘I love you,’ with a trembling voice, like maybe there is a small piece of fear inside of him that this will all fall to pieces because, well, he’s read the histories, and his father’s told him the stories, and he’s marrying the son of the son of the son of the daughter of the cursed. 

He brushes the thought aside in his mind, and brushes the tears away with the back of his hand. 

‘I’m so happy.’ 

Elrohir kisses him once and twice and a hundred times beneath the branches, in the fresh snow, while the lights in the sky fade away and the purple near the mountains turns golden, turns blue. 

Legolas tangles his fingers in Elrohir’s hair. It’s all loose, just a cascade of ebony down his back, over his green-grey cloak, soft and strong and caught with silver. He wraps it around his hand, he runs his fingers over his head, beneath his hair, finding his lips and his skin with each kiss, eyes closed, just breathing in the coldness of the morning and the warmth of Elrohir’s skin. 

Sometime they will have to go inside and talk to their families and their friends and everyone that they do love, but who aren’t part of this world right now, this moment where Legolas understands, knows completely, what it was that made Elu Thingol and Melian stop and stare for years, for centuries, beneath the forest, beneath the stars, while the world was still young. 

And he locks away this memory into his young heart, and keeps it there, something that can never be taken from him, something that could never break. And he’s happy, and he’s crying, because he’s so happy that his joy is turning to tears, and when Elrohir asks why he’s crying he says, ‘because I’m so happy,’ and it’s true. So Elrohir kisses away his tears and holds him closer, and the trees turn from black to green in the flood of morning light. For now, they stay.

**Author's Note:**

> request from tumblr ❤️


End file.
